The stranger came awake with a start, letting out a ragged gasp that surprised Naomi so badly she nearly dropped the litter. She and Wynn set them down, the others setting down their own burdens before joining them. For their part the stranger croaked feebly, trying and failing to speak.

Gael knelt, offering them water, but the stranger only eyed it. Gael frowned. “Do you not want it?”

Tyver sighed and took the water, taking a mouthful and then offering it to the stranger. They took it greedily and began gulping the water down.

“Slowly,” Naomi said. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

The stranger ignored her, almost emptying the bottle before they began to retch. Naomi lifted the edge of the cot just in time to have them throw the water up on Tyver’s feet instead of themselves.

“Nice,” Tyver said dryly, then went to the river to clean himself.

Gael knelt, offering another bottle to the stranger. “Slowly,” he repeated.

The stranger eyed him and took it, sipping now. “Thanks.”

“I am Gael, son of Cordelia. Might I ask your name?”

“Hungry.”

“Well, Hungry, you’ve been asleep for several days. If you weren’t a martyr you’d already be dead of infection with those wounds.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Yes, your name is Hungry, you said that.”

“Gael,” Wynn sighed. “That’s an absolutely ancient joke.”

Gael blinked. “Joke?”

“Our guest was being rude.”

“Ah.” Gael reached into his pack and removed some dried meat, taking a piece himself before offering it. The stranger gnawed but made little headway.

“We can try to catch something from the river, if you like. Easier to chew.”

“Fyod.”

Gael blinked but turned to Wynn rather than saying anything.

“I think it’s their name,” Wynn prompted.

“Yes,” grunted the stranger. “My name is Fyod.”

“I didn’t want to make more assumptions,” Gael said politely.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Fyod asked. “When I came out of the river. You know where I came from. Why didn’t you kill me?”

Gael frowned. “You asked for help.”

“But you know,” Fyod said again.

“You asked for help,” Gael repeated.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Should’a left him,” Tyver said, kicking his feet in the river. “Not helped.”

“We’ve discussed this,” Kaya said reasonably. “Gael knows. You made sure he knew.”

Tyver nodded, but the scowl remained.

“Do you think it’s a trap?” She grinned wickedly. “Cause everything’s a trap if you think about it.”

The little thief eyed her, chuckling. “Everything’s a trap, fair. APEs, though…”

“We took one out already.”

“Said ‘monsters from t’sky.’ More’n one.”

“Do you think helping will bring them down on us?”

Tyver was silent for a long time, dragging his feet in the water and watching the current curve around them. When the words did come they were slow, laid as carefully as stones forming a path. Tyver had been taking pains to leave his accent behind, if only for Kaya’s sake.

“Just being alive will bring them down on us. The APEs. Ezek. That knob we’ve been lugging for the last few days won’t change that. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t have anything to say.“

Kaya took his hand. “But you do.”

“I do. Fyod’s not a good person.”

Wynn eyed the latest addition to their camp, watching as Fyod worked sullenly through the strip of dried bison and ignored Gael’s polite attempts to engage. The boy was pale, paler than even the trauma of his still-healing wounds should have left him, his dark eyes oddly large as they darted about. For all that Tyver was teased as a street rat, Fyod actually looked and behaved like one.

“Is there anything you would care to discuss?” Gael asked, finally sounding a little impatient.

“Fish.”

“Fish?” Gael leaned forward, starting to smile until he recalled who he was talking to. Wynn wasn’t sure whether to laugh or shake his head as he watched the excitement die. “Oh. Tyver?”

“Hmm?”

“Fyod would like a fish, please.”

Considering Tyver’s size, it was remarkable how far his disgruntled snorts could carry.

“I’ve got to step away for a moment. Don’t go anywhere.”

Fyod glared at Gael as he walked away. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“He’s not very good at jokes,” Wynn said conversationally, stepping forward to crouch over the injured boy. “You dodged a bullet, there. If you let him, he can talk for days about fish, fishing, boats, water. Maybe that’s why he feels so responsible for you, since you came to us out of the river.”

Fyod watched him uncertainly.

“Gael’s odd, but he has a heart of gold. Always patient, always helpful. But you know that. You watched him talk with Ezek, after all. Which little one flattened you, the girl or the boy?”

The boy began to sputter, but Wynn shrugged and talked over him. “Doesn’t matter. You just need to understand something, Fyod. Gael’s better than us.”

“What?”

“Better than Fyod, at least,” Naomi said, causing him to flinch. She had come up behind him, mirroring Wynn’s posture without making a sound. “Gael puts a lot of work into understanding people, understanding us. Gael’s why we helped you. You are going to help him.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“A fact,” Wynn corrected. “He is going to come back. He is going to start asking questions again. This time, you’re going to answer his questions. You’re going to answer them fully. If I don’t like your answers, I’ll appeal to the hunter in him. For all his work at being a good person, he is also a born hunter. If I do that, he will leave you behind without a thought.”

“But I’ll die! I’ll starve if the monster’s don’t find me, or Ezek will-”

“-Of course you’ll die,” Naomi said coldly. “But we won’t leave it to chance. I’ll just cut your throat.”

Fyod’s ratlike eyes were flashing between them, horror spreading like a stain across his face.

“You’re right. We know who you are, Fyod. What you did. Tyver was there. He told us that Ezek wasn’t the only poisonous thing about that camp. “

“But, but you’re better-“

“Gael’s better,” Wynn corrected. “We can live with his disappointment.”

“Why am I disappointed?” Gael asked. The three of them turned to face him, and he smiled, hefting the dressed remains of the fish Tyver had already caught. “Is it because Tyver is getting too good at fishing?”

“We’ve been talking to Fyod,” Wynn said “and he doesn’t want to talk about fish. He does want to talk, though.”

“I do,” Fyod gulped. “What do you want to know?”